


How to See Without a Camera

by RoonilWazlibMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, HP Fluff Fest 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Harry Potter, M/M, Post-War, Potions, Quidditch, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoonilWazlibMalfoy/pseuds/RoonilWazlibMalfoy
Summary: Having returned to Hogwarts after his training to take over for Madam Pomfrey, Harry was just happy to be back home. He didn't even mind it when he realized he'd have to work closely with Severus Snape.One Kiss Cam incident at a Quidditch match, however, left him wondering just how close he could get to the man.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall/Poppy Pomfrey
Comments: 32
Kudos: 514
Collections: HP Fluff Fest 2020





	1. Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Viraha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viraha/gifts).



> I've had so much fun writing this fluffy little Kiss Cam trope for the HP Fluff Fest!
> 
> Huge thanks to the Fluff Fest mods for running this and to my beta, BDSM, for doing an amazing job.
> 
> Based on Prompt #130

"Absolutely not!" Snape said firmly. 

"Come now, Severus," Flitwick piped in. "Let the children have some fun."

"I agree," Harry added. "I don't see any harm in…"

"What is he even doing here?" Snape cut him off. "He's not staff."

"I am so!" Harry retorted, not caring that he sounded childish. 

"Severus, you know that he is, in fact, staff now. He is a fully trained assistant who'll be taking over for Madam Pomfrey after this year. He has as much right to be at staff meetings as anyone," McGonnagall answered. "And, regardless, it doesn't matter how we feel about it. It's already decided."

"Well, I, for one, agree with Severus," Filch said gruffly. Snape glared at him and Harry snickered. It was widely known that Filch's agreement was enough to get almost any plan or idea shot down. 

"Be that as it may, Mr. Filch, my hands are tied," McGonnagall said sternly. "The students have petitioned the Board of Governors and it has already been approved. The device," she held up a small camera with fluttering white wings, "arrived by owl this morning."

Harry honestly felt like Snape should be proud of the students' very Slytherin actions. They had used their cunning to get what they wanted and it had worked. McGonnagall hadn't even known about it until it was too late and now there would be an actual Kiss Cam at the student Quidditch matches. 

The Kiss Cam was the newest thing at pro Quidditch games, brought to the wizarding world by a muggle-born wizard. Everyone delighted in seeing the happy couples projected on-screen during the duller parts of the matches. The camera would stay fixed on the chosen couple until they kissed and it was all great fun. The Daily Prophet had even started a column in which they printed pictures of the best kisses of each game. It served as a small beacon of happiness and hope in a world that had been recently ravaged by war.

"This is some fascinating charm-work, Minerva," Flitwick said brightly, examining the camera closely with small, nimble fingers. 

"Indeed it is, Filius," McGonnagall replied. "It’s charmed to focus only on couples who are sitting together and are the most romantically compatible, so there is no chance of it honing in on those who would not wish to be chosen."

Snape still scowled, but Harry figured that was fairly standard for him. He seemed to be grudgingly accepting now that he couldn't do anything about it, at any rate. No one else came forward with any objections. 

Finally Hooch chimed in, "Well, as long as it stays in the stands and away from the players, I'm fine with it. Can we go now?"

As there were no other pressing needs, the meeting disbursed and all of the Hogwarts staff returned to whatever they'd been doing prior to the summons. They had just over a week to prepare for the students' arrival and everyone was busy.

It was kind of strange, Harry thought, being back at Hogwarts. He'd taken a year off after the war to figure out what to do with his life. He'd always planned to be an Auror, but, after the war, he just wasn't sure he had it in him to keep fighting like that. 

He did know, though, that he wanted to help people, to do some good in the world that meant so much to him. And so, with Hermione's guidance, he had landed on healing as a profession. He had taken his NEWTS via a home study program and then been accepted to St. Mungo's training program. It had been hard, grueling work – three years of it – but he'd been glad for the chance to keep busy and stay active.

Almost immediately after he'd finished his training, the Headmistress had written to him, explaining that Madam Pomfrey was hoping to retire within the next few years and asking if he'd be interested in taking over. Harry jumped on the opportunity. Not only had Hogwarts always been his true home, but his personal life hadn't been all that great at the time, and he was grateful for a chance to escape it, a chance to get back home.

At this point, he was entering his second and final year as Madam Pomfrey's assistant and would be all set to take over the hospital wing soon. He had truly found enjoyment in his work. The students rarely got seriously ill or injured, so he found himself primarily healing cuts and bruises and minor hexes, although there was the occasional Engorgio'd penis and once, a tongue, to keep things interesting. 

Hogwarts was a great place now that there was no one trying to kill him. He was well-liked by most of the staff and he liked and respected them in turn. He had to work fairly closely with Snape, now returned to his former position as Potions Master, and had even found reasonably good rapport with him.

"Mr Potter," Harry was startled out of his thoughts by Madam Pomfrey. "We need to have a larger stock of headache potions before the school year begins," she said briskly. It was part of Harry's job to ensure that their supply cupboards were well stocked. 

"Sure! I'll just let Snape know," Harry said, stepping toward the floo to call their resident Potions Master.

Madam Pomfrey shot him a sharp look. "Harry, please tell me that you have not been bothering Severus every time we need a simple potion! You are a certified medi-wizard! You should be taking care of things like this yourself!"

Harry gazed back at her sheepishly, his eyes comically wide behind thick spectacles. It honestly hadn't even occurred to him that he should be brewing his own potions. Potions had never been his strong suit and Snape had never complained when he'd asked for potions for the hospital wing. At St. Mungo's there were healers who brewed and healers who saw patients; no one was expected to do everything. Thinking about it, though, he probably should have realized that, with only one healer on staff at Hogwarts, that healer was, in fact, expected to do everything. 

"Well, it's just," he stuttered, "Potions isn't my best subject…" He trailed off, knowing that she would never, in a million years, give him a pass on this. 

"Might I suggest asking Professor Snape for some refresher courses then? You are here to learn and I expect you to be learning rather than expecting others to do your work for you." Madam Pomfrey's stern face left no room for argument. He had heard that she and Professor McGonnagall were involved; after seeing such an austere, Minerva-like expression on Poppy's plump face, Harry believed it.

"Right," Harry said reluctantly. "I suppose I'll do that."

He didn't want to do that, though. He really didn't want to do that. If he made a list of all the things he wanted to do, asking Snape for help with potions would be right below a makeout session with Malfoy and right above a makeout session with Goyle. But, reluctantly, he started the meandering trek through the castle, leisurely heading to the dungeons. 

As he walked, his mind also wandered. "I really need to get out more if all I can think about is kissing former classmates." 

The truth was, Harry had kissed barely anyone other than Ginny since the war ended. Kissing her, feeling the soft curves of her body pressed against his, had not felt right at all. He'd wondered if something within him had broken when he died or when he'd destroyed Voldemort. That is, until he found himself checking out one of the doctors who'd trained him. 

One of the male doctors who'd trained him. 

It had all sort of clicked then. The way he used to watch Malfoy all of the time, the way he'd been so enamored by the Half Blood Prince, the way he admired Charlie's strong arms, the way that Bill's red hair had always been more enticing to him than Ginny's had ever been. And that was fine. It was good. Honestly. He understood himself better and his friends had easily accepted him and if Ginny was a bit, well, ragey, he could deal with that.

And he did. He dealt with it by coming to Hogwarts and living there full time and never actually leaving the building. It was great. There was absolutely nothing wrong here and he was absolutely not hiding from anyone.

Better yet, now he'd be busier than ever, provided that Snape was willing to give him lessons. He wouldn't have time to think about Ginny or about kissing Goyle or about his lack of a social life. He would just do his job, listen to Snape, and try not to be sassy. He could do this. It was good because it kept him from thinking about things he didn't want to address right now. Or ever, preferably. 

Those thoughts in mind, he raised his hand to knock on Snape's office door. 

Before his knuckles could even touch the rough-hewn wood, Snape swept the door open. He stood there with his eyebrows raised, his dark eyes boring holes into Harry, a blank expression on his face. "What do you want, Potter?" he asked dryly. 

Harry put on what he hoped was a bright friendly smile and not a slightly insane one. "Erm, yes, well," Harry stuttered.

"Spit it out, Potter. I do not have all day," Snape snapped.

But Harry couldn't spit it out. Not right away anyhow. Because Snape had answered the door in a state of what could be called near nudity for him. Well, he was fully clothed, of course, but his sweeping robes had been discarded, leaving him in a white button down, untucked and open at the throat, and a pair of dark trousers that fit his slim figure perfectly. His pale feet were bare against the stone floor and how had Harry never noticed that Snape was… well, he was kind of fit? 

"My eyes are up here, Potter," Snape said sarcastically. Harry startled as he looked back at the man's face and found him smirking. His dark hair hung limply around his face, black eyes glittered dangerously above his over-large nose. Ah, yes… that would be why he hadn't noticed Snape's attractiveness before. Because of his face. Or maybe his personality? Both, Harry finally decided. Definitely both.

Before he managed to do anything else stupid, Harry took a deep breath and let the words rush out of his mouth. "MadamPomfreysaysIneedtomakemyownpotionsbutI'mshitatitsoshesaidtoaskyouforlessons. Please?"

His brows furrowed and his mouth tightened as he studied Harry. "Repeat yourself at a normal speed," Snape barked, exasperation obviously taking over. Harry looked into his narrowed eyes and marveled at the fact that they were nearly the same height. Somehow, he'd always thought of Snape towering over everyone.

"Sorry, sir," Harry intoned as he wiped damp, sweaty hands on his jeans. Why was he so nervous? It's only Snape, he reminded himself. "Madam Pomfrey informed me that I need to be making the potions for the hospital wing myself," he said. "I hadn't realized that before and I told her that I'm shit at potions, so she said I needed to ask you for lessons." He worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, barely restraining himself from running his hand through his hair. He knew Snape hated that. "So, would you be willing to help me? Please?" he asked. 

Snape studied him for a moment more, a long finger pressed against his thin lips, a thoughtful expression on his face. Harry just looked back at him hopefully as he noted that Snape's short nails were painted, not black as he'd always assumed, but a rich deep purple. He blinked to clear his mind from the distraction that Snape's hands posed. Truthfully, he was concerned that if Snape said no, Madam Pomfrey would send him away and find a new replacement. He really did not want to leave Hogwarts.

"Meet me here at 7 AM tomorrow," he finally said sharply. 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, his voice higher pitched than normal. He was pleased, but did his voice really need to squeak like that? He made an effort to lower it before he said, "Thank you so much, sir."

Snape rolled his eyes. "If we are to be colleagues, you may as well call me Severus." He sounded as if he meant it, but his face was pained.

"Sure, sir! Erm, Severus," Harry said awkwardly. "You can call me Harry, too, of course."

Severus glared back at him as if to say he would do no such thing, then he shut the door in Harry's smiling face.


	2. Click

At 6:15 the following morning, Harry was digging through his trunk and yawning. Was there some reason that this had to be done at the arse-crack of dawn, he wondered. Probably because Snape was hoping he'd oversleep and miss it, honestly. 

He had no intention of missing it, though. He needed to stay at Hogwarts and, for that, he needed this job. If learning to brew potions with Severus Snape was what it took, then, well, that was what he would do, by Godric. 

He just wished he knew what he should wear. It's not like Snape would really care what he was wearing. It's not like they were going on a date or something. Harry imagined Severus sitting across from him at an intimate candle-lit dinner and saying, "There will be no need for silly wand-waving. Now, turn your menu to page 394." He snorted at the thought. 

While he knew that Snape would, no doubt, find something to judge him for, he also knew that the man was always impeccably dressed while he brewed and, as he had learned during his training at St. Mungo's, there was good reason for that. Brewing in loose clothing was inadvisable, as was showing more skin than absolutely necessary. Ingredients could pop, and some of them were not the kind of thing you wanted on your bare skin. Loose sleeves could drag through potions or through the flames beneath them. It was best to wear clothing that had built-in waterproofing, so that no splashed potions would be absorbed, and proper cooling charms as, even in the coolness of a basement or dungeon, brewing could get quite warm.

Finally, he found the robes he was looking for, balled up in a corner in the bottom of his trunk. The dark green robes he'd been required to wear when he did his rotation in the Brewing Ward at St. Mungo's should do the trick. He thought Snape might even appreciate the rich green colour; at least it was more pleasant than the bright pea-green that the healers who treated patients wore. He was fairly certain that the vast amount of wrinkles in the fabric wouldn't win him any kind of favour with Snape, but he was hoping that those would relax some as he walked to the dungeons. 

Grabbing a few slices of toast and bacon from the kitchen, he munched his brekkies on his way to the dungeons. The castle was eerily silent at this early hour. It was always fairly quiet when the students were gone, but he found the utter stillness of the early morning, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the halls, a bit disconcerting. 

When he arrived at Snape's door, he swept his hands over his chest, brushing away any errant crumbs and attempting to smooth his robes. They really were quite wrinkled; the fabric at the bottom was so bunched up that his left knee was almost showing. He took a deep cleansing breath, preparing himself to face Snape and thinking, oddly, of pale toes against the dungeon floor.

It came as no surprise when the door flew open before Harry had even knocked, but he jumped back anyway. Snape stood there, his robes billowing in the draft the door had created, and looked down at Harry. How he could look down at him when they were essentially the same height, Harry was uncertain. Maybe it was a Slytherin thing.

"What are you wearing, Potter?" he demanded, disgust evident on his sharp face.

"Brewing robes," Harry shrugged. He should have asked Madam Pomfrey for a spell that would smooth them, but he hadn't wanted to wake her. He'd been too unsettled by the uncannily silent castle to consider rousing anyone and now he'd surely be paying for it.

Snape sneered. "I can see that. Why do they appear as though they've been languishing in the bottom of an old trunk for months?" he asked, his deep voice suspicious. 

"They haven't!" Harry retorted. "They've been in the bottom of an old trunk for two years," he followed up in a quieter, but equally sassy voice. 

The sneer on Snape's face deepened as he narrowed his eyes and pulled out his wand. He flicked it twice and Harry shivered at the tingly feeling of Snape's magic settling over him. Then his robes were smooth once again and he let out a sigh of relief. He honestly hadn't realized how much discomfort the wrinkles had been causing him until they were gone. 

Dark eyes studied him for a moment more, then he spun, his robes snapping behind him, and headed back into his chambers. "Come along, Potter," he said impatiently, as if he hadn't been the one spending time on Harry's clothes.

"You don't have to be so dramatic," Harry mumbled under his breath. He shuffled through the door, then jumped back when he realized that Snape had turned again and stood facing him now, their noses mere inches apart. The man was smirking wickedly and dark mirth filled his black eyes.

"If you don't care for my style, Potter, you're free to leave," he said in a smooth low tone.

Harry's eyes widened. He could feel Snape's hot breath on his face. "No, I…"

Snape cut him off. "You're free to go back to St. Mungo's to learn to brew, free to let the Daily Prophet report on your every move, free to let your little ginger fangirl fall at your feet." His inflection was harsher, more brittle now. "By no means," he continued, "would our little Savior want that, would he? The Chosen One doesn't wish to be worshipped. No, the hero is here looking for a challenge."

His eyes were dangerous and Harry could read them perfectly. Snape intended to be that challenge and he knew that Harry would never back down now. Green eyes met black ones and both were battle-hardened, battle-ready. "I'm not leaving, Severus," Harry intentionally spat the man's first name out, a name he'd already been given permission to use. Then he issued a challenge of his own. "As long as you can teach me what I need to learn, I'll be here." 

It was true that he and Snape had never gotten on especially well. But Harry knew the man could teach him potions. He had done so brilliantly back when Harry had been using his old potions text; they'd simply both been unaware of it at the time. He was not even worried about either of them backing down on this. Not really. He just hoped that they could, more or less, hold their tempers with one another. He crossed his fingers as he followed Snape through his quarters and into his personal brewing room, prepared to get started.

As it turned out, he really needn't have worried. Snape brewed next to him so that he could follow along and, after observing him for a while, Harry found that he honestly did like the man's style. He had a flair for brewing potions that made the process seem graceful and elegant, like a dance. As Harry only needed to be able to competently and consistently brew the most common potions for the hospital ward, the hope was that if he followed Snape frequently enough, he'd develop a feel for it himself, at least for those few potions. Anything more complex, like wolfsbane, would need to be brewed by someone with a Potions Mastery anyway. 

While Snape brewed, he explained everything that he was doing to Harry and Harry did his best to keep up. Any time that Harry made a mistake, Snape was right there to scold him, even smacking his fingers a couple of times. Harry had no hesitation about snapping right back. 

Over the course of that morning, though, it began to feel less like bickering and more like banter. Meeting Snape here, on level footing, some years removed from the trauma of the war and the hurt of his upbringing, allowed him to see that Snape was not evil or out to get him. He was snarky and often mean, his wit was biting, but he was talented and brilliant. Once he was accustomed to it, Harry began to see an almost playfulness in the man's dark humor.

"We shall break for lunch now," Snape said, and Harry found himself surprised that so much time had passed. "I am certain that you can find something else to do afterward? Something farther from me, preferably."

Harry nodded as he began cleaning up his brewing station. "Of course, sir," he said.

"Good," Snape replied, watching Harry carefully. "You've done adequately today, Potter. You shall come here at this time each day and brew with me until the students arrive. We can discuss your schedule during the school term later." 

With that, he turned to stalk out of the room and Harry meekly followed him. 

On the one hand, Harry really had not planned on spending every morning with Snape, of all people. On the other hand, the man had just given him a compliment of sorts; begrudgingly, yes, but it was still a compliment. He imagined that it must have pained him to do so, and that, in itself, was enough motivation to keep coming back, as far as he was concerned. He had just been gifted with the fortuity to annoy Severus Snape on a daily basis. He could not, in good conscience, squander such an opportunity. 

As he followed Snape back through his chambers, he saw a slight movement from the corner of his eye. He turned his head quickly, then stopped in his tracks. A sleek-looking dog stood there looking back at him, his smooth fur the color of ripe blueberries, his bright eyes suspicious.

"I didn't know that you had a dog!" Harry exclaimed, kneeling down and reaching a hand out toward the dog. "Hey, boy!" he said to the dog. 

"Why in Merlin's name would you know anything about my private life, Potter?" Snape sneered. 

Harry glanced up at Snape, then back at the dog, who seemed to be sneering as well. Could dogs even sneer, he wondered. The dog came no closer, no matter how long he held his hand out to it, so he stood up sheepishly, trying not to think about the fact that he'd been rejected by a dog. "Did you get yourself in dog form intentionally or did he learn that from watching you?" Harry asked as he made his way out the door.

Closing it behind them, Snape snorted and ignored the question entirely. "His name is Antonio," he said, but did not elaborate on the subject at all.

"Snape has a dog named Antonio," Harry thought as he walked to the Great Hall next to the man. "Snape has a blue dog named Antonio. I spent the morning with Severus Snape, who has a blue dog named Antonio, and I'm going to do it again tomorrow. What even is my life?"

Walking into the Great Hall with Snape was no less surreal; he was just grateful there were no students there at the time. They'd surely be giving him the same kinds of incredulous looks that the staff was giving him right now, but they'd be louder about it. Godric forbid the Weasleys ever saw him on friendly terms with Snape. Ron and Ginny both would have a conniption, he was certain.

Only Madam Pomfrey was giving him an encouraging smile as he made his way to a seat beside Snape. Headmistress McGonagall quickly followed suit after Pomfrey leaned over and murmured something in her ear. 

"Yeah, those two are definitely an item," he thought as he sat down, quickly digging into the food that appeared on his plate. He didn't even care what was on it at this point. He just needed something to do besides meeting the other staff members' eyes. Why were they so interested anyway? He supposed that, with no children in the castle, they needed something to gossip about. 

"Why are you here, Potter?" Snape spoke softly, interrupting Harry's thoughts. Harry looked over at the man next to him and found his black eyes thoughtful rather than mocking as he'd expected.

Deciding to be blunt, he simply responded, "I'm bent." He gazed back intently, daring Snape to say something rude. 

Instead, he laughed softly, displaying what looked to be a small but genuine smile. It was a good look for him. "I could have guessed that years ago. I take it that your little gingers aren't so pleased?"

Shaking his head in agitation, Harry answered, "Well, mostly they're fine. Ron's kind of bothered because he wanted me to end up with his sister, and Ginny's really bothered because, I guess, she wanted me to end up with Ron's sister too." He gave an awkward laugh. "Honestly, it was everything. Ginny, the reporters following me around, Malfoy…"

"Draco Malfoy?" Snape asked sharply.

"Yeah," Harry sighed uncomfortably. "I dated one of his friends for a bit – Theo?" Snape nodded in acknowledgment, so Harry continued, "Malfoy just couldn't handle it. He kept threatening me, accusing me of getting his father locked up… I mean, I get it. He's got a lot to deal with and seeing my face when he wants to have a drink with his mates couldn't have been easy. 

"But it wasn't easy for me either. I just had to get away from all of it. So when the Headmistress offered this position, I jumped on it. Left all that behind me."

They sat eating in silence for a few minutes before Harry's curiosity got the better of him. "What about you, Severus?" he asked. "You could brew anywhere, avoid teaching the dunderheads," he chuckled. "Why Hogwarts?"

A long moment of silence stretched between them. Harry didn't think the man was even going to answer him, but finally he said, "Sometimes retreating from the world is your best option, Potter."

With that, he stood up and walked gracefully out of the Great Hall. Harry sat there for a while longer, picking at his food and wondering which of them Snape had been talking about.


	3. Shoot

The following week went by rather quickly. Harry had developed a routine and a rhythm with Snape that he never would have thought possible, but he found that he rather liked it. He enjoyed the quiet walks to the dungeons each morning, he enjoyed watching Snape's graceful brewing as he clumsily followed along beside him, he enjoyed trying to interact with Antonio while the dog gazed dryly back. The dog was so expressive and Snape-ish that he liked to imagine him speaking back some day in Severus' wry tone.

Each day they had lunch together, sometimes in silence but, with increasing frequency, they had begun to talk. Harry was starting to think that he could count Severus as something akin to a friend. The man was intelligent and skillful always, funny and insightful when he wanted to be. He was viciously moody but, knowing him as he was beginning to, Harry found his moods both tolerable and relatable. 

Most notably, though, Snape was incredibly private. Harry found that he valued that more than he'd have ever imagined. He knew that, no matter what happened, no one would ever hear anything about Harry Potter from Severus Snape. He despised all the attention that he got from the wizarding world and it was nice to know that he had at least one person who would not ever share anything that he didn't want shared. In fact, Snape would never willingly share anything at all.

As much as Harry appreciated that, he was also slightly bothered by it. He found thoughts of Snape punctuating his days, even when he wasn't with the man. He wanted to talk openly with him, he wanted to sit back and just watch as he brewed complex potions, he wanted to see his dark eyes unguarded, his feet bare. He wanted to know more about Antonio. He wanted to know more about Severus. 

"Merlin," he thought, less horrified than he probably should be. "I have a crush on Snape."

This was okay though. It was okay, he thought, because he would, of course, never act on it and Snape would never need to know. In fact, no one would ever know, because Snape would hate to be talked about and Harry would never do that to him. Especially not when he was trusting that Snape wouldn't talk to anyone about him. 

It was okay because he'd just act the same as he had been doing. He'd still get to spend time with Snape, he'd still get to see the man. It would be no different than when he'd had a crush on Charlie after 6th year, before he'd even realized that it was a crush. And if he lay awake at night picturing Snape unbuttoned, his long graceful fingers, his sharp high cheekbones, his bare feet – as he'd once pictured Charlie's fiery hair and strong arms – well, that was really no one's business. 

It was okay, because the children would be back soon. Everyone would be busy teaching them and caring for them and keeping them out of mischief. There would be no time for anything more than that. Eventually Harry would get over the crush, or he'd meet someone else, or he could just die still crushing on Snape. Regardless, it wouldn't matter. Everything was fine. 

He carried on admirably until the students came back and he carried on admirably in the days after their return. Their potion stores were full, so he and Snape took some time off from brewing together while everyone got settled in. Madam Pomfrey allowed him to take the reins more often than not; this was his last year as an apprentice and he needed to be able to do it all on his own next year. 

He got to know the new students who took daily potions or supplements. He healed countless scratches and bites from owls and cats who were still getting used to their new homes and new owners. He got to return one girl's ears to their normal state after a transfiguration spell had gone wrong and left her with drooping orange bunny ears. He shivered slightly as he treated a boy who'd gotten his nose too close to the Shrinking Solution he'd been brewing; he'd seen one too many noseless people in his life to be fully comfortable with that particular type of calamity. And, throughout all of it, he thought about Snape.

He had been right when he'd assumed they'd all be too busy for anything else after the children arrived. He wasn't sorry, really, because he enjoyed his work. But he did somewhat miss their quiet mornings spent brewing. He still saw the man at meals, and they often sat next to each other, but their interactions felt far less friendly and open with so many people around.

Finally, two weeks after the start of the school year, Snape mentioned that he'd be able to begin brewing with him again two days per week, though it would have to be early in the morning again. Harry was perfectly happy with that arrangement. He had even begun to miss his early morning walks in the quiet solitude of the castle.

He found the walk to be slightly different now that the children were in the castle. None of them were out and about so early, but the halls had a more vibrant lived-in feeling, as if even the building felt more purposeful when it was housing the next generation of wizard-folk. Snape, on the other hand, was the same as always. 

"Come, Potter. We have less time to work now than we previously did, so do try to keep up," he greeted Harry then disappeared back into his chambers. His robes flapped behind him as usual, and Harry noticed a flash of pale toes beneath them. Had Snape just woken up; had he not had time to put his boots on yet? Or did he simply feel more comfortable around Harry now?

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Harry followed Snape into the now familiar set of rooms. He was here to brew, not to act like a first year schoolgirl with a crush. It only took a moment to settle back into their routine. Chopping ingredients, methodically adding them to the cauldron, slowly stirring with practiced precision, bottling, labeling, the rhythm of it all came back to Harry quickly. 

When they finished, he followed Snape out of the brewing room. He stooped to greet Antonio, who was as disinterested in Harry as ever, and to watch Snape from the corner of his eye. 

Severus Snape was seated and pulling lime green socks over long pale feet, over lightly muscled calves covered with a thin dusting of black hair. Harry's mouth went dry. He forgot to pretend that he wasn't watching and blushed when he noticed Severus smirking at him. 

He realized then what he found so compelling about the man – the hidden depths, the vibrancy of lime green socks and a bright blue dog, swathed in layers of snark and black fabric – there were layers of Severus that no one ever saw and Harry wanted to peel each one back slowly. He wanted to see every piece, to kiss and taste each one. He recognized that he was in way over his head right now and he had no idea how to get out. 

"Should've known you'd be in green," he said, resorting to teasing because he was all out of options. It was either tease or pounce on the man and, believe it or not, he was honestly trying not to get hexed.

"Would you prefer something more your own speed?" Severus asked sarcastically. He flicked his wand and the lime green colour shimmered and transformed into a bright fluorescent pink. 

Harry laughed as vivid pink feet disappeared into tall black boots and watched for a moment as clever white fingers laced them up. Turning back to Antonio, he found a look of dry amusement on his blue face. The dog rolled his eyes and sank down to the floor, laying there elegantly just out of Harry's reach. 

"Seriously," Harry thought, "I don't think dogs should be able to do that." But he dismissed it as just another quirk of Snape's existence. The man was an enigma wrapped in a mystery; of course he would have the most sarcastic judgmental dog in all of existence, because why wouldn't he?

After that morning, Harry found himself increasingly pleased with his new wont. He enjoyed caring for the children and keeping the hospital wing clean and sterile, he enjoyed the fact that Madam Pomfrey was giving him more and more freedom to make the hospital wing his own, he enjoyed brewing with Severus twice weekly and sitting with him during most meals. 

Sometimes they'd discuss potions and new medical technology. Sometimes they'd talk about the students. Some days Harry would just talk at Severus until the man stood up and walked away without a word. He largely remained a closed book to Harry, but every once in a while he'd let a detail slip and Harry cherished every one. 

Before he knew it, the date of the first Quidditch match arrived. Harry knew that Madam Pomfrey had not generally attended these but, given the dangerous nature of the sport and the fact that Harry still loved it, he decided that, as the school's mediwizard, he would be sure to attend each one. This one was Slytherin vs Hufflepuff, so Harry was especially excited to be able to sit in the staff section next to Severus during it. He hadn't quite eked out Snape's real feelings about the game, but he knew the man would be there for his House whether he liked it or not. 

Shortly before the match was to start, a third year Ravenclaw came in with a soft downy layer of feathers sprouting from his face. Harry vanished the feathers immediately, but it took some time to figure out how to stop them from growing right back. By the time the boy's face was feather-free, a Gryffindor girl came in crying and he had the joy of awkwardly explaining menstruation to a pubescent girl for the first (and, he was certain, not the last) time. "Godric, I hope that gets easier," he thought. He was at least relatively sure he hadn't traumatized her, so he called it a win.

Needless to say, though, he was running quite a lot later for Quidditch than he had planned on. Grabbing his cloak, he ran out of the hospital wing and down to the pitch. The players were just kicking off as Harry stumbled up into the stands, pleased to note that there was an empty seat beside Snape. He flopped down into it and took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp sweet air of early fall in Scotland. 

"Had you been this punctual as a student, perhaps my Snakes would have beaten you more often," Snape murmured, his dark eyes never leaving the Quidditch pitch.

"Nah," Harry laughed. "It would've just given Malfoy a false sense of hope. I could've shown up much later than this and still beaten him to the Snitch."

The two sat in companionable silence as the match got started. Harry tried to inconspicuously observe Severus while still watching the match. While the man didn't cheer loudly when Slytherin scored – he would never be so brazen – Harry did notice a slight quirk to his mouth, a softening around his eyes when the Snakes pulled into the lead. 

At a certain point, though, Snape's face darkened and Harry looked around in confusion for the source of the man's disgust. Slytherin was winning 110-40, so he couldn't imagine what would have ticked him off. 

Until he noticed that the kiss cam had been released and was fluttering around the stands, that is. Harry couldn't help laughing aloud as he saw excited students clustering together with their partners, hoping for a few seconds of fame. Seeing Snape glowering in his direction only made him laugh harder.

The kiss cam meandered its way through the stands, capturing all kinds of couples from every combination of Houses. Harry was pleased to note the level of inter-House interaction; that had been severely lacking during his time as a student. Surprisingly, the cam soon drifted toward the staff section and Harry realized that Madam Pomfrey had, in fact, come to the match. The kiss cam hovered in front of her and the Headmistress and Harry cheered as loudly as the students when they smiled at each other and exchanged an adorable chaste kiss.

Then, to Harry's horror, the kiss cam was hovering right in front of him and Severus, it's soft wings beating as furiously as his heart.

"What have you done, Potter?" Snape hissed. 

Seconds ticked by as Harry looked at him and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm so sorry, Severus," he murmured softly. He should have known better. He knew his feelings for Snape! He should have remembered that the kiss cam would be here today and that sitting next to Snape, who was so incredibly private and more against the kiss cam than anyone had been, would be a recipe for disaster. 

Rage and hurt filled Severus' black eyes. "You tricked me?!" he spat. And still the kiss cam hovered. Harry was certain that people were starting to talk about them, to wonder what on earth was going on, but he couldn't be less bothered by that. He only had eyes for the man in front of him.

"Never!" he said, willing Snape to see the sincerity in his open face, in his eyes. He swallowed again. "I would never trick you. But, well, it might be worse than that… I, erm, I like you, Severus."

Dark eyebrows knitted together as Snape's mouth dropped open. Harry wondered if he had ever been at a loss for words before this moment. The kiss cam continued to hover. 

"You like me?" he said incredulously. "You like me??" Harry bit his lip and, softly and earnestly, nodded.

Suddenly long fingers were buried in Harry's hair, pulling him forward. Thin lips were pressed against his, teeth clacked together, noses bumped one another. His hands went to Snape's narrow waist, tugging him nearer; he reveled in the feeling of lean muscle under thick robes beneath his palms. Snape tasted of mint and he smelled of potions and Harry didn't think he'd ever been kissed so passionately. 

He felt like he could die just then. He would happily do so, knowing that he had tasted and felt something so perfect, so precious. He was certain that nothing else that his future could hold would be so wondrous. Snape pulled away first but he continued to gaze hungrily at Harry, his pale cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink. The kiss cam fluttered away and Harry became aware of the silence surrounding him in the stands. He looked around in a daze, his lips tingling. He could still taste Severus on his tongue. 

Someone, he thought it came from the Gryffindor section, wolf whistled. "Get it, Potter!" someone else shouted. Harry saw Minerva looking in his direction, her eyes twinkling brightly (was that just something that came with the job?) Then the kiss cam found a new target in the Hufflepuff stands, and everyone turned their attention to the next couple.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that they weren't looking his way anymore. He turned to Severus to say so, but the man had already left.


	4. Negative

The next few days passed in a slow blur for Harry. He treated his patients, he went to meals, he went to bed, but he felt like he was living his life in black and white. There was something missing from his routine and it wasn't particularly hard to figure out what. 

He hadn't seen hide nor greasy hair of Snape since the man had kissed him in the Quidditch stands. Kiss cam photos had begun circulating amongst the students and Harry had managed to confiscate one of him and Snape. He'd spent more time than he really cared to admit studying the way Snape fell into the kiss as if he couldn't help himself, the way that pale hands slid into messy hair, the frenzied, almost desperate, way their mouths had met. Vibrant colours leapt off the page at him, touching him in a way that nothing in real life was.

Nothing without black brewers' robes snapping behind a man who walked faster than his height should allow, without the dangerous glitter of black eyes. Nothing without the graceful sweep of white fingers over a steaming cauldron, without pale sharp cheekbones jutting out from a face that, while not conventionally attractive, was more compelling to him than any other. Severus Snape was hiding from him, he was certain. And somehow in his absence, a man who was all shades of grey had sucked all the colour from Harry's world.

At their usual meeting time, Harry had gone down to the dungeons and pounded on the door to Snape's quarters. He'd never needed to knock before. 

He heard Antonio barking and Severus fussing at the dog. "Antonio, I swear to Salazar, I will silence you if you don't stop it this instant!" A low growl in return. He could easily see, in his mind's eye, Snape's expression and the roll of his dark eyes as he said in disgust, "I honestly do have myself in dog form." Another growl and then nothing. 

Harry left feeling even more dazed than before. 

It came as no surprise when, that afternoon, Madam Pomfrey pulled him aside to talk to him. Everyone had seen him and Severus kiss; everyone had to have noticed them not speaking since then. He expected that she would tell him to be careful, that Snape was a moody, snarky man. He did not, however, expect the opposite. 

"Harry Potter," she admonished, "I don't know what's gone wrong between you and Severus but I expect you to fix it!" Her blue eyes were as stern as he'd ever seen from her. 

"But. But he disappeared!" Harry spluttered. "I didn't do anything!"

Softening slightly, she put a warm hand on his shoulder. "I've never seen him open up to anyone the way that he did to you, Harry. And he did so in front of everyone. I've known Severus for a very long time. He's hiding now because he scared himself with that little display. Now you need to summon that famous Gryffindor courage and go to him. Force him to talk to you if you have to." She smiled sympathetically as she said, "Minerva had to do the same with me, once upon a time."

"I'll try," Harry sighed, because really, what else could he say? She was probably right, but he couldn't help feeling as though he was the one who had been wronged here. He was the one who'd been left alone with shining eyes and kiss-drunk lips, the whole school staring at him as all the colour in the world disappeared in a flurry of pitch-black robes. 

"Why does it have to be me?" he thought. He had even tried to meet with Severus, but the man refused to see him! He refused to even acknowledge his existence. 

Ginny and Theo came to his mind. How easy it had been to fall into relationships with them. Everything had been so straightforward, so simple. Mutual attraction had been acknowledged and then everything had fallen into place. Of course, it had all fallen apart just as easily – Ginny for obvious reasons and Theo for less obvious ones, but he could recognize now that he had never even missed them, not like this – and maybe that was the difference. 

Falling easily into a relationship with Severus Snape was unimaginable. Everything about the man screamed "difficult." They irritated one another, they bickered and snapped. It could never be easy. It was possible, he thought, that the struggle meant that it would be worthwhile though, that Severus would be as difficult to let go of as he was to connect with in the first place. Nothing had ever come easily to Harry; why would this be any different? 

Poppy's words rolled around in his mind for two colorless days and he saw Snape in everything he did. A Slytherin boy with dark eyes needed to be treated for asthma, a Hufflepuff girl had been bullied by her classmates, a Ravenclaw child had a potions accident. An empty seat stood beside him at meals and he walked the castle during silent early mornings. Though he avoided the dungeons, everywhere were whispers of Severus. 

Another day, another early morning, and Harry was tired of walking the castle, of walking away from the dungeons where he wanted to be. He imagined telling his 12-year-old self that he wanted to go to the dungeons, that he wanted to go to Severus Snape. While his imagined reaction amused him, he also heard 12-year-old Harry – an undersized boy who had confronted a thousand-year-old basilisk and a disembodied Voldemort – telling him to stop being a coward. 

Finding himself in front of a rough-hewn wooden door, deep in the heart of Slytherin territory, came as no surprise. Faintly he heard the scrabble of nails across stone, the low whine of a dog on the other side of the door. 

"Leave it, Antonio," a low voice ordered. 

Harry knocked tentatively. Another low whine sounded from the other side, nothing more. His heart pounded as he knocked harder, then waited for a response that didn't come. Anger and hurt fueled him as he banged on the door with urgency causing the wood to rattle in its frame. And still there was no answer, no snark, no snapping, no dangerous dark eyes, no flushed pale skin. There was only nothing. 

How dare Severus ignore me? Harry thought. He stepped back. 

"Severus Snape, you bloody coward!" he shouted. "If you don't open this door right now, I'll go back to the hospital wing and summon it off its hinges!" he roared. Then quieter, "I summoned my broom from Gryffindor tower onto the grounds when I was 14. That's one hell of an Accio. Don't you think for one second that I can't take your door out now."

Honestly, he wasn't sure that he could. The school likely had magic in place that would prevent a spell from tearing the door away from a teachers' quarters. He was beyond caring though. Five days, Severus had left him walking around like a ghost. Five days of brooding and pining and behaving like the children they were there to take care of and teach. 

"I have given out 19 detentions this week," Severus appeared at the door then. He sounded proud but his voice was rough and his eyes red-rimmed. "Gryffindor has lost 237 points." 

Drinking in the sight of the man, Harry felt his lips twitch. "That has to be some kind of record, even for you," he said softly. Severus' dark hair looked greasier than usual, his white shirt was wrinkled, his pale feet were bare against the floor. 

"My eyes are up here, Potter," Severus said in a tired sounding voice. Harry's eyes snapped back to the man's face and he was certain that he'd never seen anything more beautiful. 

Smiling softly, Harry said, "Let me in, Severus." He wasn't sure if he meant into your room, into your heart, or into your bed, but the words were out and Harry didn't regret them. Severus stepped back then, leaving the door ajar, and Harry knew that was all the invitation he was likely to receive. He stepped inside. 

"Hey, Antonio," he greeted the dog. Antonio gave him a cool smug look, then stalked away, out of sight. Harry grinned. Just like his owner, he thought. 

The professors' quarters were small and it wasn't difficult to find Severus. He stood against the counter in the kitchenette, stirring a cup of tea, his sharp eyes on Harry. 

Harry walked to him and leaned against the counter beside him. He rubbed a hand over his face and was surprised to find thick stubble there. It seems we've both been falling apart a bit, he thought. 

"I've spoken to Flitwick," Severus said abruptly. "That infernal camera was not tampered with. It works only on mutual attraction and compatibility and it was not tampered with." The misery in his deep voice was almost palpable even while his posture remained casual. 

Sucking in a breath, Harry's mind began to race. Mutual attraction. If the camera works only on mutual attraction, he thought, then that means… of course, he had suspected that the attraction was mutual. He couldn't imagine someone kissing him like that solely to get a magical camera out of their face. But to hear it stated like that, to hear Snape state it like that, was earthshaking. He knew that he wasn't likely to get more of an admission than that from the man, but it was enough. 

It was enough and, yet, it wasn't. He couldn't resist needling the man. He had never been able to resist it. "Severus Snape," he began in a low teasing voice. "Are you saying that you like me?"

The tea cup clattered down on the counter, tea splashing over the rim, as Severus set it down forcefully. And then Severus stood before him, his legs on either side of Harry's outstretched ones, his hands clutching the counter on either side of Harry's hips. Their faces were close together, staring, studying. Severus' eyebrows were drawn together as he hissed, "Idiot boy." 

Feeling braver than he thought he had ever done, Harry slowly brought his hands up and brushed his fingers across Severus' pale cheekbones, across his thin lips, down the pale column of his long neck. "I've always been an idiot, Severus," he said softly. "It just took a camera for you to see that I'm more than that too."

Quickly stepping away from Harry's hands as if he'd been burned, Severus snorted. "You utter imbecile. Do you think I haven't noticed you before?" He sat down heavily in a wooden chair, one of two surrounding the small table in his kitchenette, and gazed back at Harry. "I noticed you when you showed up at my door and undressed me with your eyes weeks ago, Potter. I've noticed how unexpectedly adequate and committed you are to your work. I heard you when you bared your heart to me in the Great Hall. I see how you seek me out. How could I not like you, you complete and utter nitwit?" He said the last part through gritted teeth, as if it pained him so much that even the insult was not enough to make his admittance comfortable. 

"But I am not right for you, Potter," he held up a long-fingered hand to stop Harry's predictable objections. "I am old. I am old and I am mean. I am greasy and ugly and set in my ways. You may think that you want this, though why, I haven't the slightest. Be assured, Potter, you do not want this."

"You're wrong," Harry said, holding his own hand up in a mockery of Severus' gesture. "Oh, you're right enough about yourself. You are all of those things. But I like it, Severus. I like it all. I've had easy. I've had youth and beauty. And I can tell you that those things don't do it for me.

"I want someone who will snap at me, who will smack my hands when I do the wrong thing. I want someone who is strong enough and mature enough to be loyal to me and to accept my loyalty, to know they won't bow to the whims of their family or their friends or The Daily fucking Prophet, to understand how much I value my privacy and independence. I want something that's all my own. I want your passion and your fire, Severus. I want to look at your face every day knowing that I see how compelling you are, how lovely you are, even if no one else does."

Sinking to his knees before Severus, his body between the man's knees, he said, "Please, Severus. Just don't run. Don't hide from me. I will gladly run and hide with you, anywhere, anytime, just me and you and Antonio. But don't leave me before we've even tried. Don't tell me what I want. I already know." 

He laid his cheek against Severus' knee and looked up at him. Wrapping his hands around the man's calves, his fingers itched to stroke those pale feet, but he held back. The moment was pregnant with anticipation and Harry didn't want to do anything to upset it.

After a long moment, Severus' fingers made their way to Harry's hair, twining dark curls around his fingers. Another moment went by and the man said, "Get up, Harry."

Wanting to protest, wanting to stay where he was forever, Harry yearned to argue. But Snape's use of his first name gave him pause. He didn't think he'd ever heard anything sweeter than his name – not his surname, his father's name, but his own – falling from those lips, his name in that rich voice. He stood and Severus followed.

"Come, Harry," he said, leading the way back into the sitting room. He hesitated, then called forth two patronuses in rapid succession, sending them to Minerva and Poppy respectively, asking them to excuse both he and Harry from their duties today. Then he led Harry further into his quarters, opening a door that Harry had only seen closed before, and beckoning him inside.

A bed, much like Harry's own four poster, took up much of the room. The staff beds were similar to student beds, but larger. Snape's was neatly covered by an emerald green duvet. He sank down onto the edge of the bed and motioned for Harry to sit next to him. "I am unsure exactly what you want from me, Potter," he said softly.

"Back to Potter now, are we, Snape?" Harry asked cheekily, laughing when Severus rolled his dark eyes. Then, softer, he breathed, "Everything. I want it all, Severus. Anything that you're willing to give me, anything that you're willing to take from me… I want you."

Dark eyes met green ones as Severus sighed. "You already have me, for what little it is worth. You silly, stupid boy."


	5. Kodachrome

Tentatively, Harry reached out a hand and laced his fingers together with Severus', pleased when Severus not only allowed it, but also gripped his hand back tightly, stroking his thumb absently over Harry's wrist. They sat in silence for a while on the soft green bedding and Harry marveled at the fact that he felt perfectly comfortable doing so with Severus.

When Severus flopped back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, Harry didn't hesitate to follow, still holding the man's hand. "Minerva urged me to speak with you," he finally said quietly. "She and Poppy have been doing this," he gestured between them with his free hand, "for many years now, you know."

Harry chuckled. "Poppy kind of did the same for me. I mean, she didn't tell me to threaten to break your door down but she told me to talk to you. She cares about you, you know. They both do."

Sighing, Snape raised his and Harry's intertwined hands, looking at them intently before lowering them back to his chest, as if their tangled fingers were something precious to him. Harry could feel the steady beat of his heart through the back of his hand. "Sometimes I charm pictures on the ceiling here," he changed the subject. "Stars, plants, animals," he turned his head to gaze intently at Harry, "Lovers."

"You can see all those things out there, Severus. You don't need to hide away to see the beauty of the world," Harry said, the words flowing from him without a thought. It was so easy to be here. It didn't feel like hiding. He didn't think it was possible for him to hide from those black eyes.

"Why would I go out when all that I wish to see is right here before me?" he said simply. Releasing Harry's hand, he rolled to his side and leaned toward him, giving him every opportunity to turn away, to leave, if he wanted to. He didn't want to. He'd never want to. 

Impatiently, he waited as Severus slowly closed the gap between them, his heart beating furiously. His second taste of Severus was, somehow, even better than the first. He still tasted of mint, he still smelled of potions, his lips were soft and gentle against his own. Harry ran his fingers through slick black hair, the strands heavy between his fingers. 

There was no crowd and no camera to interrupt them here and they kissed one another hungrily, without stopping. They moved ever closer until the length of their bodies were pressed flush together. Harry kicked his shoes off and ran his socked feet over Severus', but he wanted more. He wanted everything. 

When he reached to unbutton Severus' shirt, the man allowed it, allowed him to touch and caress. Then he pulled Harry's jumper over his head and wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing their bare chests together. Harry could feel his hardened nipples, his coarse body hair, his lean muscled frame against his body. He could feel Severus' cock, hard beneath his trousers, rubbing against his own as they kissed. He didn't think he'd ever been so aroused in his life, certainly never just from kissing and light groping.

Running a hand over Severus' hip, he gripped the man's arse, loving the way the flesh filled his hand. He moved to his waistband, desperate to thrust his hand inside, to feel his soft cheek without coarse fabric in the way, when Severus pulled back with a gasp. 

"Are you certain, Harry?" he asked, desperation in his voice. His lips were swollen and his face was scratched from the stubble on Harry's cheeks. "Please stop if you are not positive you want this."

Lightly kissing Severus' cheeks, his forehead, his nose, Harry said, "I have never been more certain of anything, Severus. I want all of you if you'll have me."

With a growl, Severus rolled them over so that he was straddling Harry's body. Harry groaned at the contact, the delicious pressure. Severus kissed him again on the mouth, then moved down to his throat, kissing, biting, nibbling. He ran his tongue through the hair on Harry's chest and lapped at his nipples, drawing one into his mouth and sucking hard. Harry could only bury his hands in that long dark hair and moan at the beautiful sensations that wicked mouth was providing. 

Moving further down Harry's body, he dipped his tongue into Harry's navel then nibbled down his belly, running his tongue along the waistband of his trousers as he unbuttoned them and freed his aching cock. 

"Please," Harry gasped. "I want to see you, Severus!"

The man obliged him. Standing, he quickly dropped his own trousers to the floor and stood there for a moment, uncertainty and hunger in his eyes. His pale body was thin and ethereally beautiful, lightly dusted with dark hair. His cock stood up, pink and dripping, above heavy balls. Harry wanted to lick and relish every inch of him. 

He kicked his own trousers and pants to the floor and tugged his socks off, then sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for Severus. "Please! Let me taste you," he begged. 

Smirking, Severus guided him back into the bed, laying him back down. "I find myself wanting the same thing," he said, pressing a hard kiss against Harry's mouth before turning himself around and planting a knee on either side of Harry's head. He leaned down and enveloped Harry's cock in the wet heat of his mouth, nudging his legs wider so he could access all of him.

Severus' weeping cock rested against Harry's lips. He darted his tongue out to lap at the gathered moisture there, groaning at both the salty taste and the feeling of Severus swallowing around his own cock. Opening his lips, he gripped the narrow hips above him and pulled Severus down into his mouth. The weight of his cock on his tongue, his balls against his face, were everything Harry hadn't known he wanted. The pink pucker of Severus' arsehole flexed as he thrust into Harry's mouth and Harry watched it greedily as he sucked and licked that gorgeous prick. He grabbed Severus' cheeks and pulled them gently apart, groaning when he saw that hole open just a bit. He knew that he could easily become addicted to that view.

Meanwhile, Severus wrapped his hand around Harry's cock and moved his mouth to Harry's balls. He gently lapped and suckled them, rolling them softly in his mouth as he slowly stroked his cock. He moved down further, sucking at Harry's hole, pressing his tongue inside, working him open. 

It was almost more than Harry could take. He continued his ministrations – his mouth full, the heady scent of Severus' groin, the sight of his fluttering arsehole, the sounds of their mutual pleasure, the feel of Severus' hands and mouth on his body – all served to nearly overwhelm his senses. When Severus pulled away from him, he didn't know whether to cry in frustration or just be grateful for the incredible sensations he'd been subjected to. 

Laying back down on top of Harry, Severus pressed their wet hard cocks against one another again, thrusting gently as he kissed Harry deeply. Harry could taste himself in Severus' minty mouth. The thought of where that mouth had just been, the pleasure it had wrought, almost made him come.

"I would very much like to be inside you, Harry," Severus said between kisses, "if you would like that."

"Godric, please!" Harry gasped. Words were difficult at the moment, but he could imagine nothing better than coming undone around Snape's hard cock, feeling the man spilling come inside his body. 

Summoning a jar of lubricant from his bedside table, Severus dipped his fingers in and knelt between Harry's spread legs. He rubbed them gently over Harry's hole, slowly slipping one, then two inside, scissoring them to open him up wider. He stroked Harry's cock as he coated his own in more lubricant then positioned himself at Harry's entrance. 

"I want to see your face as you come undone for me, Harry," he murmured, kissing Harry's cheeks softly as he pressed into his tight opening. Both men groaned as, slowly, Severus began to thrust inside. 

Harry felt his hole begin to relax as Severus drove gently deeper, his rim clinging lightly to Severus' cock on every thrust. He reached up and pinched Severus' pink nipples, running his fingers through his chest hair as he rocked his hips, meeting Severus thrust for thrust.

Just as he felt Severus drive fully inside him, his balls pressed lightly against his body, his vision went blurry around the edges. "Yes, please, Severus," he babbled as the thick cock inside him nudged his prostate. He reached down and gripped his own cock, pumping it in time with Severus' thrusts. 

Noticing beads of sweat forming on Severus' upper lip, he stretched upward to lick the droplets off, to kiss Severus' mouth hard. Moments later, he moaned as he found his release, spilling over his hand and painting his stomach with spurts of hot come. He felt his arse spasm around Severus' cock and, with a half dozen more thrusts, Severus was filling him and collapsing against his chest.

Wrapping his arms around his lover's narrow shoulders, he carded his hands through strands of black hair and pressed his lips to the top of his head. 

"The potions cause it," Severus mumbled against his chest while running a plum-tipped nail over Harry's left nipple.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, feeling like he'd missed something. 

"My hair is," he said, "perhaps naturally more oily than some, but working with potions for so long each day increases that. I'm not dirty." His voice was defensive. Harry supposed he was rather used to being attacked and insulted over his appearance, but he hadn't even considered it. He meant it when he'd said he liked everything about the man.

"Your soft cock is still up my arse, Severus. I'd say you're a little dirty," he responded lightly. "But as far as your hair, I figured it was something like that. I like it. I like all of you." He wrapped a heavy lock of hair around his finger and tugged gently on it. Severus lifted his head and gazed up at Harry for a moment before rolling to the side and laying his head on the pillow beside Harry's.

"I still find myself somewhat baffled by you," he said. "What do you see in a man like me?"

Harry smiled and rolled closer, moving his hand down Severus' back. He slipped his finger between the man's arse cheeks and pressed lightly against his pretty hole, not really seeking anything, just exploring his lithe body.

"We can do that if you like. Any time," Severus said, pushing back against Harry until the tip of his dry finger slipped inside. "You haven't answered me, though."

"I see all of you, Severus. And what I haven't seen yet, I want to see soon. You're all passion and colour, no matter how you try to hide it. I didn't need a camera to see you, either," he said simply, gasping as Severus pinched his nipple hard. He continued to prod at Severus' hole idly. 

"Where did you get Antonio?" he asked as the thought randomly popped into his mind. 

When Severus laughed, his arsehole clenched. Harry felt his cock twitch with interest as the man answered him. "Antonio is a ward dog," he said simply. "My mother's family bred them for many years and I always desired one. Since the war ended, I felt more free to acquire one."

They held each other quietly. Severus grabbed his wand and lazily charmed the ceiling with images of running dogs. "You were right, you know," he said. "He is quite like me. I do wonder if they're all that way, since my family bred them, or if I just managed to get lucky." 

Somewhat reluctantly pulling his hand away, Harry laughed. "I'd say you got lucky, Severus," he winked. 

"Cheeky brat," Severus rolled his eyes. "What would you like to do now?"

Harry didn't really know if Severus meant now as in right now or now as in the future, but he found that the answer was rather the same either way. "I want to hang out with you. And Antonio. I want to have sex with you as much as possible. And I want to get to know you so well that you can't possibly live without me."

Smiling, a real and genuine smile that delighted Harry to his core, Severus said, "Absolutely. Let's do that for the foreseeable future."

**Author's Note:**

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